


The Loss and Discovery of Hope

by Eyrmia



Series: Scars of Time - DISCONTINUED [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Autobot Deaths, Canon Female Characters - Freeform, Character Death, Dark Energon, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Fix-It of Sorts, Hope vs. Despair, Mad Scientists, Moral Ambiguity, No Original Characers, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rescue, Revenge, Season 3 rewrite, Serious Injuries, War, Wreckers, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-07-19 13:23:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7363027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eyrmia/pseuds/Eyrmia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(While this work is not the first in a series, the prior work(s) is/are not a necessary read to understand this one.)</p><p>The Omega Lock is a pile of scrap in the middle of the Rust Sea. Autobot Outpost Omega One is reduced to rubble. The Autobots themselves are scattered across the United States, hoping the others are alive. But hope is an empty concept, one that died the same day as Cybertron.</p><p>With the arrival of several new Decepticons and Autobots, including Combaticons and Wreckers, respectively, the tide seems to have changed. But then Megatron brings up an old trick, one that could have more devastating consequences than it did the first time.</p><p>(This is a rewrite of Season 3. There will be no OCs in this story because I want it to be as close to potential canon as possible. There will also be no pairings besides June/Fowler because pairings aren't really a focus of the show anyway.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Have We Lost?

**Author's Note:**

> This story will share some things with the canon Season 3, but mostly only at the beginning, when the Autobots are separated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As the chapter summary used to state, I was on vacation in Yellowstone for a short time. While I was there, I rewrote what I have of this fanfic. Older readers may see several similarities to the older version. I'll try to post somewhat regularly (every day or two, hopefully).

_"Please don't tell me any more._  
_There's a weight in your eyes,_  
_and it weighs on my heart._  
_Where have the children gone?_  
_We were innocent once,_  
_but that was so long ago."_

–– Flyleaf, "Have we Lost"

* * *

The light of the setting sun glinted off of Jack’s riding helmet as he and Arcee drove through the flat, northern Missouri landscape. Jack could see for miles, the grass fields seemed as endless as space itself. Jack glanced at the road, which sped by so fast the only thing he could focus on was the scarlet shadow cast by he and Arcee. He could tell that the road wasn’t used often, as it was made of old, pale asphalt. Before them loomed a lone gas station that also looked like it wasn’t used often. It was deserted. Arcee slowed to a stop when they reached it.

“I’m going to go out back and stretch. You should get some dinner.”

Jack climbed off and removed his helmet. “I’ve gotta save my money, Arcee.”

“Then go inside and use the––what?–– _bathroom_?” She activated her holoform. “I don’t want you to have an accident.”

Jack rolled his eyes and playfully jabbed at her holoform with his helmet. Then he went inside. The small store was empty––not even a cashier stood at the counter. Instead, there was a box for money. Most of the food looked old and expired anyway.

He called out. No answer. He checked out the bathroom, but it was too disgusting to use. After a moment of hesitation, he withdrew his phone from his pocket and navigated to his mom’s contact.

“I would if I could, Mom.” He squeezed the phone. She must have been so worried. “One text couldn’t hurt, right?” He glanced out the window again. No Arcee.

_hey mom. safe with RC. luv u_

He closed his eyes and exhaled, then hid the phone away again.

...

Agent Fowler snorted and slammed his phone down. The drab furnishing of the room didn’t help his nerves. He’d just been talking to Megatron, and the Decepticon warlord had once again _ordered_ him and his troops to stand down.

“Damn bastard.” Fowler rubbed his eyes, but was interrupted by someone at the door.

“Bill?” He looked up when June Darby entered. Her hair stuck out like wires and the prominent bags under her eyes got worse by the day. “When will those medical supplies be here? I’ve got wounded men and women––”

“I’m doing the best I can, June.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, much like Ratchet used to do. June sighed and crossed the room to his desk.

“They’re out there. They have to be.” She rested her hand atop his. “The bad guys never win.”

Fowler shook his head. “This isn’t a fairytale.” He looked to the window. The ground outside was nearly gray. Dismal clouds hung above, looking nearly full to the brim with rain. A thunderstorm was _not_ what they needed right now.

June wasn’t listening. Her gaze was locked on her phone, which she held in a death grip against her chest. Fowler squinted at her.

“June––”

“Jack’s alive.” She looked up at him. “He’s _alive_!” She laughed and left the room with a newfound bounce in her step. “Don’t forget those supplies, Bill!”

He didn’t have the heart to tell her that Jack was probably dead already.

...

Arcee folded back down into her vehicle mode and rolled to the front of the gas station. Jack appeared a moment later, an indiscernible expression on his face.

“Something wrong?” She tilted her mirror towards him.

“What?” He settled himself on the seat. “No. No. Just…just thinking.”

“About what?” She lifted her brake and they were off across the same landscape.

He didn’t answer for a while, instead focusing on the sky above. A shadow was forming in the distance. A mountain of clouds laid ahead. He sighed. “What if we’re the only ones left?”

She kicked the speed up a notch. Jack wished he could feel the wind against his face. It infiltrated his shirt, his pants, but his face was sweating.

“We’re not. The others have survived this long––overcome worse challenges. Pit, Ratchet met _Overlord_ and survived,” Arcee said, a little unsteadily. She ignored his confused look. “They’re not dead. And there were other bots on the _Ark_.”

“Where are they now?”

“Scattered among the stars.”

They rode in silence after that. Jack even forgot about the text. Then they heard a jet engine. Jack thought it was thunder, but Arcee slowed a little and tilted her mirrors up.

“Scrap!” She skidded to a halt. “Off.” He was practically thrown off as she transformed and called up her blasters. Above them hovered eight Decepticon seekers, silver armor gleaming menacingly in the little sunlight that remained. Jack looked around. There was no place to hide.

The drones landed and pointed their own blasters back at Arcee. The leader leaned forward. Despite his mask, his visor was sinister.

“Exterminate them.”

...

Along a lengthy, lonely road drove a black and yellow muscle car. Above it flew a Cybertronian jet. The drone scanned the car for a second time, but it still came up as “no match.” He forwarded the scan to his superiors anyway.

Bumblebee pulled off the road and parked under a lone tree. Raf hopped out and peered into the graying sky. The drone was gone.

“Guess your new paint job works, Bee.” He looked up at his companion, who’d transformed. He sat down and got his computer out. “Wouldn’t hurt to take a break, right?”

Bumblebee shrugged and pointed down the road. Fortunately, it didn’t seem to be incredibly populated.

“Yeah, I know. We’ve still got a long way to go until we reach Jasper. And Darkmount.” He shivered. “Maybe we should call Fowler.”

Bumblebee chirped lowly. Raf sighed.

“You’re right. Then we’d get caught. But couldn’t Fowler protect us?”

Bumblebee chirped again and shook his head. Raf nodded and went back to searching his usual conspiracy sites.

“Nothing but rubber masks and bad CG––” He stared at his screen and did a double take. “Bee, I think I just found Ratchet.”


	2. Made of Glass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the late update. Here's two chapters to make up for it. :)

_"I broke something I'll never get, I'll never get back._  
_Brought me to my knees._  
_A head like steel and a soul of gold,_  
_and a heart that's made of glass."_

–– Pentatonix, "Cracked"

* * *

 

The junkyard was quiet––not even the crickets dared to break the silence. Old cars and other pieces of scrap littered the yard, glinting like bones in the moonlight. Bumblebee purred through along the faint path, diligently looking for their medic.

“There!” Raf opened his door and jumped out. The familiar ambulance was hidden in the shadows. They would have missed it, have Bumblebee not had his lights on. “Ratchet, it’s me! Bee’s here too!”

The ambulance didn’t answer. Raf glanced at Bumblebee and they shared an uncertain look.

“Ratchet––”

The ambulance’s high beams flicked on, nearly blinding Raf, who staggered back. Bumblebee transformed and shuffled closer, optics wide. His door wings hiked up into the air.

“Go away.”

“But––”

“You’re interrupting my power down.” The lights turned off. Bumblebee made a deep, despairing noise. Raf ran up to Ratchet and narrowed his eyes.

“You’re giving _up_?” Raf clenched his fists. “Come _on_ , Ratchet! We can’t give up _now_!” They both stumbled away when Ratchet suddenly transformed, optics harsh against the night. The hair on Raf’s arms stood on end; Ratchet’s EM field snapped around him before he reined it back in, close to his frame.

“The war is _over_ , Rafael!” Ratchet darkened his optics and lifted his chin. “The ‘good guys’ don’t always win.”

Bumblebee beeped and waved his hands about. Raf nodded.

“Yeah, what about the _Harbinger_? We know it has working tech! Starscream used it when he defected, and it’s probably deserted now that he’s back with the ‘Cons––”

Ratchet rolled his optics, though the action was unseen in the shadows. “Technology is _nothing_ without a competent user. A team is nothing without a proper _leader_.”

“What about when Optimus lost his memories?” Raf crossed his arms. “You didn’t give up _then_!” He narrowed his eyes.

“Optimus wasn’t _dead_ then!” Ratchet’s optics flashed on the word ‘dead,’ then went dim. He stared Raf in the eye and scowled. “Give it up, Rafael.” Bumblebee took a step away and his door wings flattened against his back. Ratchet turned his glare on him. “That’s right. Optimus is _dead_ . The war is over, and we _lost_.” The junkyard went quiet again, except for the low hum that signaled––

“Is that a ship?” Raf pointed. Both Ratchet and Bumblebee followed his gaze to the approaching vessel. Despite its small size, the various spikes sticking out of its hull made it quite an imposing figure. Decepticon script was engraved on its side.

“The _Tempest_ ,” Ratchet read, squinting. Bumblebee glanced at him, confused, but forgot about it when dirt exploded at his feet. The ship drew nearer and the blaster fire became more rapid. Bumblebee pushed Raf under a stray car, then dove aside to avoid the missile barreling towards him.

Dust and shrapnel filled the air. Bumblebee wildly threw his helm back and forth, but he could see nothing. He jumped when fingers wrapped around his forearm, only to find it was Ratchet. Energon trickled from a large wound in the medic’s left ventral plating. The armor around the wound was blackened and cracked.

“I would advise _not moving_.” The dust cleared, revealing four figures; three were tall and bulky, while the third was thin and small. The largest stepped forward, the end of his fusion cannon glowing bright yellow in the dark. His visor, also yellow, flashed; his hunched figure was nearly twice Ratchet’s height.

“Lord Megatron has requested your presence, _Doctor_.” They could hear the grin in his voice, despite the fact that his mouth was covered by a battle mask. “Will you come quietly or will we have to hurt you?”

Ratchet exchanged a glance with Bumblebee. The latter shook his head and beeped. Ratchet’s jaw tensed and untensed, and his optics shifted from the Decepticons back to Bumblebee.

“Onslaught, he ain’t gonna do––

“Shut it, Brawl!” Onslaught glowered at his subordinate, then stalked closer to the Autobots and readied his cannon. Ratchet raised his chin as the taller mech drew close. They locked optics, neither willing to give in first.

So Bumblebee broke the contest by shooting Onslaught in the left optic. The Combaticon roared and charged towards him, cannon ready. The others, Brawl and two femmes, went for Ratchet. More dust rose around them. Ratchet brought his arms up in a block, but the taller femme transformed and rammed into him, knocking him off his feet. Brawl came from behind and restrained him in a chokehold.

Bumblebee backed away from Onslaught, but the Decepticon grabbed him around the middle and hurled him into an old semi truck. Bumblebee struggled to stand, but Onslaught planted his foot on his chest and aimed his cannon at the scout’s head.

“Will you come _now_ , or do I have to terminate the _bug_ here _first_?” Onslaught primed his cannon.

“ _Yes_! I’ll come!” Ratchet choked, clawing at Brawl’s arm. He left faint scratches in the paint. Onslaught nodded and stepped off of Bumblebee, but didn’t lower his weapon.

“Astraea, come here.”

The tall femme with blue armor stepped forward. Onslaught gestured to Bumblebee.

“Shoot out his T-cog and legs, then meet me on the ship. Brawl!” He made a shooing motion with his hand. “We need the medic _alive_.” Brawl reluctantly loosened his grip on Ratchet’s throat. Energon rushed to his head, and he nearly fell over, dizzy, when Brawl forced him to stand. He didn’t resist when they secured a pair of stasis cuffs to his wrists and shoved him onto their ship. Ratchet caught a glimpse of the dark interior before Brawl clouted him in the back of the head and his vision went black.

Bumblebee didn’t watch when they flew away, instead curling into a fetal position and offlining his optics. Raf wordlessly sat down beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder.


	3. Fall Apart

_"Today I saw my hero fall apart._  
_The one who taught me to be strong._  
_On the outside I look fine,_  
_but on the inside I am dying."_

–– Papa Roach, "Do or Die"

* * *

 

Smokescreen poked his head above the ground and looked about. There was nothing in sight but the ruins of Autobot Outpost Omega One, still smoldering. The sky above was black, despite the fact that it was only late afternoon. Smokescreen grunted and slipped back into his underground cavern. He approached Optimus, who laid on the ground. unmoving.

“The ‘Cons stripped the place clean.” He sighed and sat down beside the dying Prime. “I couldn’t even find a patch kit.”

Optimus mumbled something, but it came out static-laced and choppy. Smokescreen shook his head.

“I’m sorry. I…don’t understand.” His door wings twitched. “This sucks.” He frowned and bowed his head. “And I said it would be _easy_. How stupid am I?” He glanced at Optimus.

The Prime offlined his optics. The sound of his fans was barely audible. Smoke rose from beneath his plating. Smokescreen may have been imagining it, but his paint seemed to be fading to a dull gray.

“Hang on, Optimus.”

...

“I never knew there were so _many_ Rockies.” Miko hunched lower in her seat. “Where are we going anyway, Bulk?”

“The Wreckers have a backup plan in case someone gets separated from their unit. We meet at a certain set of coordinates.” He drove faster. “If Jackie’s still alive, he’ll be there.”

Miko sighed and leaned her head against her hand. All she could see out her window was rock, but the driver’s window was a different story. They were driving on the side of a mountain, so the rest of the valley stretched beneath them, green and luscious. The sun was nearly gone, hidden by the mountains that rose in the distance. The sky was a brilliant red; it reminded Miko of blood.

“Do you think he’s still alive?”

Bulkhead slowed. They’d reached the spot––a meadow full of blooming, multicolored flowers. He opened his door. Once Miko hopped out, he transformed.

“I don’t know.” His voice was uncharacteristically quiet. Miko frowned. “Being a Wrecker is dangerous, Miko. There are tons of ways he could’ve gotten killed––”

“But there are also lots of ways he could still be alive!” Miko blinked back tears. “We can’t lose hope, Bulk!”

Bulkhead shrugged and sat down. “I just don’t know, okay?”

Miko crossed her arms and leaned against his leg. Within moments, she was asleep.

...

Pain. That was all he’d known since they pulled him from the wreckage of his ship, barely conscious. He resisted the urge to scream when the electric prod was dragged across his chest. He could tell that one would leave a scar.

“I know you have information, _Wheeljack_.” Starscream’s chilling voice filled his audials. The Seeker was bathed in ebony shadows; they dipped into the crevices of his face and crawled across his frame like ink.

Wheeljack glowered at his captor. “I already told ya, _Screamy_ , Prime’s bots didn’t know I was comin’. They never bothered fillin’ me in.” He bared his denta in a snarl. “So knock yourself out. _I ain’t talkin’_.”

Starscream scowled and jammed the prod into Wheeljack’s neck cables. This time a small yelp did escape, but he clamped his jaw shut and cut it off. The pain in his sensory net overloaded his right optic. Starscream smirked. His EM field expanded to brush Wheeljack’s own. The overpowering sensation of * _satisfaction_ nearly made the Wrecker gag.

“Lord Megatron _will_ find out where the Autobots have gone, whether you tell me willingly or _not_.”

Wheeljack spat a glob of energon in his face. “Since when were you so _loyal_ ? You tryin’ to make Megsy _proud_?” He got another shock in his throat for his troubles.

Starscream raked the prod across his left finial. The smell of burning metal filled the air. Wheeljack howled and kicked out, hitting the seeker in the knee. Starscream shrieked and stumbled back, his left knee now dented and leaking a steady stream of energon.

“You _slagger_!” He flexed his claws. “You’re _lucky_ Lord Megatron wants you _alive_!” He slammed the prod on a table and left the room. Wheeljack simpered at his receding wings.

...

“That’s it! Put your backs into it!” Knock Out crossed his arms where he stood atop a pile of rubble. Cybertron’s sun was just appearing over the horizon, but a rust storm was already brewing. The drones below him continued their work of digging up the Iacon relics from the ruins of the Omega Lock, in the Rust Sea. Knock Out hoped they’d find the phase shifter––he really liked that thing.

“Sir, someone’s coming!” One of the Vehicons waved and pointed to something in the distance. Knock Out shoved the drone aside and focused his optics in on the approaching entity.

“It’s an Insecticon.” He frowned. “Probably one of our sentries.”

They waited for the bug to land and transform. It cocked its head as it scanned the Decepticons. Knock Out narrowed his optics and tried to approach it, but then it transformed again and flew back the way it had come. It came back after a few minutes and chirped at him.

“I think it wants you to follow it, sir.” As if to prove the Vehicon’s point, the Insecticon flew in circles around the medic. Knock Out rolled his optics, then transformed and allowed the bug to lead him away. He kept his comms off––no need to bother Megatron unless necessary. Within moments, his scouting team disappeared, enveloped in rust and fog. He suppressed a shudder and drove faster.


	4. Dead World Blues

_"The cries of a dead world,_   
_callin’ out in pain._   
_Red skies on the desert_   
_are the blood in a ranger’s veins."_

–– Miracle of Sound, "Cries of a Dead World"

* * *

 

Knock Out followed the Insecticon south, out of the Rust Sea wasteland and into what had been Tarn. Its cold, dark spires rose above the horizon line, twisting likes screws into the morning sky. As soon as they entered the city, his circuits went cold. His plating crawled as if a hundred sets of optics were watching him. He assumed it was more Insecticons, but at one point, he thought he heard an engine.

 _My audials are playing tricks on me._ He blocked out the feeling and continued on. When they reached a tall, dilapidated tower––the tallest (and only _standing_ ) one in the city––the Insecticon transformed. Knock Out followed suit. The doors to the building opened when they drew closer, and the Insecticon beckoned him inside.

The room glowed with the eerie green light of Insecticon pods. They grew in corners, on walls, and even on the ceiling. Knock Out clamped his armor down and followed his guide through the winding corridors, taking care not to touch any of the walls, which were flaked with rust. His comms suddenly crackled to life and a dreadfully familiar baritone filled his audials.

_“Doctor, if you would step through those doors, I will be with you in a moment.”_

The Insecticon stopped at a pair of doors at the end of the hall. They opened silently, revealing a large laboratory. Red monitors lined the walls, white Decepticon script scrolling down their screens. A bulky, gray and purple mech stood at one of the monitors. He looked up when Knock Out entered and raised a brow.

“Hard to believe _you’re_ still alive.” His voice was nearly as deep as the mech who’d initiated the comm, but gruffer.

“I’m full of surprises, Flatline.” Knock Out narrowed his optics. “Where’s Shockwave?”

“I am behind you, Doctor.”

Knock Out jumped aside, and Shockwave walked past him. Odd, he hadn’t even caught a hint of the scientist’s EM field. Shockwave was bulkier than he remembered––he’d obviously traded in his jet alt-mode for a tank.

Shockwave nodded to Flatline. “Give Knock Out a tour of the laboratory.” He took the mech’s place at the monitor and turned his unblinking gaze on Knock Out. “I understand you are scouting for Megatron, following the destruction of the Omega Lock.”

Knock Out nodded mutely.

“Then you will possess a wealth of new, satisfactory information when we return to him.”

Flatline tapped Knock Out’s arm, and they walked down a side hallway. Everything was so dark––they were obviously running on reserve power. The only light came from Insecticon pods and the few overhead lights that still worked. The feeling of being watched returned, but Knock Out pushed it out of his processor.

“So what have you been doing down here?” He fiddled with his claws.

Flatline stopped at a set of double doors. “Tests. Repairs.” He opened the doors. “This is the medibay.” They entered the room, which had three occupied berths. It was considerably brighter than the hallway.

“The Combaticons.” Knock Out glanced at Flatline. “What happened to them? They were fine when I left.”

“That’s because you left before the Exodus.” Flatline adjusted an IV connected to Vortex. “You know about Shockwave’s combiner experiments, yes?”

“I _know_ the Combaticons are combiners. But how’d they get like… _this_?” Knock Out waved his hand at Blast Off, whose chest was a mess of wires and charred armor.

“They were injured during the Exodus, trying to keep the _Ark_ from leaving. Afterwards, they helped us hold off the Wreckers and Dynobots––for a while, anyway. They’re stable. Just need time for their auto repairs to kick in.”

Knock Out nodded. “Aren’t there two more?”

“Onslaught and Brawl were cleared for duty.” Flatline finished checking Blast Off’s monitor, then exited the medibay. Knock Out followed him.

“So where are the Wreckers and Dynobots now?”

“Holed up somewhere underground––those that are left, anyway.” Flatline suddenly paused and pressed his hand into the wall, head lowering to face the ground. His knees buckled slightly, but he dug his fingers into a seam in the wall and leaned into it. Knock Out reached out to catch him, but Flatline swatted him away and turned around so his back was against the wall. Knock Out backed away and held his hands up in surrender. Flatline’s cooling fans kicked up a notch and he reached into his subspace, withdrawing a syringe of purple liquid.

“What’s that?” Knock Out already knew the answer.

“Dark energon.” Flatline plunged the needle into his forearm. “I’m running low again.” He offlined his optics as the energon filled his veins. Knock Out stood in silence until he recovered.

“There’s still some resistance,” Flatline continued from their previous conversation, tucking the syringe back into his subspace and pushing off the wall. He acted as if nothing had just happened. “The Dynobots and Wreckers don’t really get along, though, so it’s not like they’re incredibly organized.” He walked back the way they’d come, to the lab. They reached it in no time, and the paranoid feeling Knock Out had earlier disappeared. He glanced back at the hallway, hidden in shadows.

“Do you ever feel like you’re being watched?”

Flatline nodded. “Some of the vents in this tower aren’t very secure. It’s likely an Autobot saw you arrive and followed you in.” He snorted. “Insecticons will sniff them out sooner or later.”

Knock Out raised his brow at Flatline. “You just allow them to run around?”

“It’s not like they can harm us. They’re low on energon, barely have any ammo, and aren’t very strong since most of the Wreckers vacated the planet. Pretty much all they’ve got left in their ranks are civilians, and the Dynobots can’t get over their own problems to deal with us.”

Knock Out hummed and turned to look at the hallway again. It flickered with eerie green light from the Insecticon pods. Shadows dipped into the crevices of the wall and the ceiling was nearly pitch black with darkness. Knock Out narrowed his optics––was that a pair of blue Autobot optics that he saw?

 _Idiot! Stop being so paranoid._ He turned away from the hall and focused on Flatline and Shockwave. The latter shut down his monitor when they arrived and approached them. He activated a command and the other monitors shut down as well. Flatline waved his hand at the hallway behind them.

"I'll get the patients ready for transport."

Shockwave nodded. “I believe it is time, Knock Out, for us to return to Megatron.”


End file.
